Reborn
by Blackyoukai
Summary: When you hunt monsters you have to be careful to not become one yourself. He failed to notice the darkness that was forming inside him. He didn't notice the monster inside him until it was too late. But was it really a bad thing? For Dean was never known to give up upon a goal he set for himself. (vampire!Dean)(vampire!Tony) rated for violence, gore and swearing
1. Playing with fire

It had been a year, a full 365 days he and Cas had been stuck in that shithole named Purgatory. The bad thing about it wasn't that they had to fight for their lives every day, no. It was the fact that, when he got out, Sam told him that he hadn't been looking for him. Sure they had told each other countless times, when one of them died, to not look for the other one. But due to their strong bond and their love for each other they would do it anyway. This time though, Sam had not done any of that.

Dean felt like he had been abandoned and betrayed. After the argument in Rufus' old hunting cabin he had decided to drive around for a little bit, clear his head from his anger. Sam had said that he could take as long as he needed, probably not expecting his brother to stay away for much longer than a few hours. But purgatory had changed the oldest Winchester, made him feel strong and pure. Back then. In a weird way he had liked his time down there, living only for the chase and the kill.

He didn't even consider calling Benny. No, he needed something to do, something to distract himself from Sam and satisfy his need to kill something.

A big sign at the side of the road caught his attention. Maddy's diner was written in big green letters. A diner huh? Dean's stomach growled loudly. Damn he could use a decent meal after this long. He guided the Impala into the parking lot and checked his jacket pockets for cash. Luckily he had snagged a few bills from a gas station owner a few miles back. Guy had been an ass anyway.

With big but cautious strides he entered the diner. A few people glanced his way when the doorbell rung. Some shady guy in the back made Dean's fingers itch for a knife. He sat down in a booth in the other corner in the back, so he had an eye on the door and the shady guy.

It didn't take long for the waitress to notice the new customer and she walked over to the hunter. "What can I get you sir." she asked in a happy voice while combing a strand of dyed red hair behind her ear with a pen.

Dean looked at the menu. "A half pounder steak, medium rare. Oh and some black coffee." he sent the woman a charming smile.

"Alright, I'll bring it in a minute." She blushed and hurried away to deliver the order to the kitchen.

About ten minutes later Dean got his meal. He thanked the waitress, giving her a smile that sent her scurrying away with a bright red flush on her face. The steak wasn't the best he had tasted, but it was better than the rubbery dry crap that he normally ate.

"Did you hear about those strange murders? Who kills their own family?" a girl said.

"Yeah. Are those families going crazy? Three families, I mean … man that's just fucked up." Her friend replied.

Dean slowly sipped his coffee while listening in on the conversation. He wrote some things down on a small notepad that he carried in his inner jacket pocket. The couple discussed the weirdness of the timing, that maybe the families had planned a mass suicide. Maybe this was a case worth looking into.

The hunter paid for his food and drove into the next town nearby. Checking in at a motel in the centre of the city he went out and got a newspaper. Apparently he had stumbled upon a series of strange murder cases. Not only were three entire families murdered, but there were cases of a single person killing their friends and swearing that they didn't do it. It sounded an awful lot like a shapeshifter, or a demon. But considering that there were no demonic omens it was most likely that it was a shifter.

After telling his brother that he had a possible case and that he would be gone for a few days he gathered some more information about the cases. They were all linked together, there was no denying that. But something made it seem too easy to catch the fugly. All the evidence pointed towards an empty warehouse at the edge of town. Everyone of the victims had some kind of connection to the building.

The eldest Winchester gathered the things he would need for the hunt. He was on his way shortly after that, aware that he might probably run into a trap. But the job needed to be done that was for sure. Since it was day he didn't expect the thing to be 'home' anyway.

The cold and moist air stung Dean's skin. He took in the sight before him as he exited the Impala and got his hunting gear. The warehouse stood at the edge of the city, close enough to reach from various locations, yet far enough away to not seem suspicious for the police.

He walked the rest of the distance towards the backdoor. A bad feeling was starting to creep into his gut. There was definitely something wrong here. The year in Purgatory had sharpened all his senses, so he took out his silver blade and stalked into the building as prepared as he could ever be.

Like a deadly predator he crept through the shadows. It was true that he was ready for any physical attack, but he didn't count on a tranquilizer gun. He caught the glimpse of the shifter holding a gun. With as much speed as he could muster he tried to dodge the shot that was fired at him. Yet it was a fruitless effort. The dart from the tranq gun dug itself into Dean's neck, releasing the chemical it held inside.

"Crap!" Dean managed to growl out before he lost the ability to speak and see clearly.

The shapeshifter came closer. The stolen face of the latest family 'murderer', the shady guy from the diner, looked down at the Winchester. "Already thought there might be a hunter on my heels." It smirked. "Guess you guys don't expect monsters to use weapons, do you?"

Dean growled at the blurry form in front of him. His body had become too heavy for him to hold upright, leading him to sink to his knees.

"Oh, come on now! I think this was a pretty nice trap. I'll have lots of fun wrecking havoc on the city with your face." The shifter laughed and pulled the now unconscious Dean out to its own car. Maybe it should add a little company for the hunter. A police officer maybe? No, that would be too easy. A federal agent sounded sufficient.

It would get one of the agents investigating the deaths of the navy family it had murdered. The one with that annoying broad grin would do. It would wipe that stupid smile of his face. It hated people that constantly joked around and smiled like there were no problems in the world whatsoever.

-=o0o=-

It was dark. The hard concrete floor started to hurt his body. Cold slowly began to seep into his bones until they felt like they were set on fire. Of course he was the lucky one to be captured by the unsub, again.

Why had the culprit captured him and dragged him into a warehouse? And what was with the strange talking about taking his place when he was done with the other one? For all he could care, he had to remind himself to keep his mind clear. "Think Tony, you can find a way out." he thought aloud. To his surprise he heard a groan and shifting beside him.

" So that fugly got you too? Do you by any chance have a knife with you?" the stranger asked.

Tony was a little baffled at first. Why hadn't the guy spoken earlier? "Got a knife in my belt buckle, but I can't reach it with my hands bound behind my back. Who are you anyway and how did you end up here?"

"Name's Dean. How I got here is none of your business, you wouldn't wanna know." Dean answered.

Tony could hear the strain in his voice. What was the guy doing? "What are you doing?" he tried to look behind the bar he was bound to, seeing the shape of a man.

"M' trying to free myself Einstein. It would be much easier with a knife, but since I don't have one in my reach it'll take longer." _Not too long though._ The room fell silent after that, except for an occasional grunt or curse from Dean.

"So, how long have you been here already? I mean the guy kills once or twice every three weeks." Tony asked, he had already tried to free himself, obviously without success. He heard the man on the other side still for a few seconds.

"Bastard got me in the afternoon, I woke when he brought you in, so I'd guess I'm here for at least six hours since it's dark outside." the hunter started fighting with the ropes again. He was about halfway through, it wouldn't take much more and he would be able to rip off his boundaries, free the other guy and end the fugly. Maybe he would get them out of there without a fuzz, but knowing his luck he doubted it.

"How do you even know about the murders?" Dean really hoped he wasn't trapped with a cop.

"Oh, I'm very special agent Antony DiNozzo from NCIS. How do _you_ know about the murders?"

"Ah, a navy cop. I'm a PI, mother of one of the victims hired me to find out who killed him." damn his nonexistent luck. Working with cops was bad, but trying to hide the truth from a federal agent? This was bad, really bad.

Somewhere in the back a door slammed open and shut. Heavy footsteps sounded in their ears. "Somebody's gonna get killed." the man coming closer hummed cheerfully.

"Hey, don't do anything stupid okay? Stay calm." Dean hoped this DiNozzo guy wouldn't freak out when confronted with the son of a bitch. Speaking of it, the hunter couldn't see a damned thing except for the stars that shone on the other side of the iron bars that closed off the small openings in the wall.

"Define stupid." the agent hissed out.

Before Dean got to answer their captor grabbed a hand full of Tony's hair and pulled back his head. Well, as far as that would go with a wooden support beam in the back. The agent couldn't really see the face of the suspect, but he could see angry green eyes glaring at him.

"If it wasn't for you I'd have been out of town long ago. But no, you had to snoop around just when I was gettin' rid of my tools." the monster bowed forward, noses almost touching. "And guess what? I think I might just slip in your role and ruin your life. Play a little 'corrupted agent'. How's that sound?" the shifter had abandoned the thought of catching the agent, but as fate had wanted it he had seen him.

Tony stared at the guy, he could now see a small portion of his face. It was enough to make him shiver, he remembered that face. _Better not say anything. _

"Hey, leave him out of this. This is between you and me you bastard!" Dean wriggled in the ropes. Just a little more.

"Shut it, I'll end you soon enough!" the captor pressed his other hand on Tony forehead. Said man gawked at what he saw next. The man started to shift, skin loosening and peeling off. Muscles reshaped themselves under new grown skin and bones shifted into another form. Within minutes a doppelgänger of Tony was standing in front of him.

"Man am I lucky you guys have the same size, I don't have to waste time stripping you guys when I change to steal your clothes."

Tony watched as his clone smiled a wicked smile. Ew, he felt like puking.

"Now I'll put you someplace cold and wet. The downtown sewers maybe. Who knows what nasty stuff is down there? And while you search for your way out I'm going to have loads of fun slaughtering your friends."

"Don't you dare touch them!" the agent growled.

"Or what, you'll kill me? I doubt that."

"I won't kill you-" Tony was cut off by Dean.

"But I will!" the hunter gave one last tug at the ropes as they gave away and the hunter shot up and practically flew at the criminals throat. He tackled the shifter to the ground, landing some pretty nasty punches in its face and torso.

The shifter however didn't plan on being beaten so he, it, fought back. Back to its feet the monster pulled up the hunter by the collar and punched him in the temple.

Dean cursed his senses, he wasn't able to see the fist flying his way until it was too late. His vision blurred and he could feel himself sway on his feet. Agent DiNozzo's voice reached his ears, but he couldn't understand what the man was saying. Another punch hit him. Pain bloomed behind his eyes and his sight blackened for the slightest second.

C'mon man, get yourself together and fight the guy. Kill the monster! Dean shook his head, stumbling back a few steps. He blinked his eyes open, straining to see in the dark. But the darkness stayed black, hiding the monster that was playing with him.

C'mon! The hunter pressed his eyes shut again .Come on! Silver flashed before his eyes as he opened them. He could see his surroundings, see the special agent bound to the support beam and most importantly, he could see their captor hiding in the shadows.

"What's wrong? Had enough already? I thought you might be more of a challenge, since you're a hunter and all." the shifter said, charging at Dean. The creature faked a swipe at the Winchester and tackled him instead, sending him crashing through a wooden plank that covered one of the bigger holes in the wall.

The plank broke and splinters dug themselves into Dean's skin. But he ignored them and got back up to his feet with a groan. Light from a far away streetlight streamed into the room, making the hunter a dark silhouette and casting a looming shadow into the chamber.

"I'm not done with you unless you're dead." the Winchester held the small silver knife, that he retrieved from his belt buckle, in his right hand. The metal glinted in the sparse light.

"That won't happen." the shapeshifter said. He ran into the back of the chamber to get a weapon with Dean hot on his heels.

Tony tried struggling free of the ropes like the other man had, but his efforts remained fruitless. He ceased his fight with the restraints and concentrated on the fight. A shiver ran down his spine when he looked at his 'clone' fight the other guy. What had he called him, hunter?

He cringed in sympathy as the hunter went flying and crashed into the wooden plank. When he stood up again, Tony could've sworn the guy's eyes glinted in the light like a cat's, but he shook it off as an illusion. He had been kidnapped after all. And who knew what their creepy captor had given them?

The senior field agent was startled when the unsub swung a discarded metal pipe around and hit the hunter square in the face. Tony was rather surprised to see the man stumble back and curse a blue streak while holding his bleeding nose. One would imagine that the guy would've been knocked out after a hit like that, but apparently he had a pretty hard skull.

Tony stared when the guy kicked their captor in the chest and the shifter slammed into the wall.

"I'm gonna gank you son of a bitch!" Dean slammed the small silver knife into the shifter's chest, electing a grunt of pain.

"That knife isn't nearly long enough." the monster cackled.

Dean tore the slim metal pipe from the doppelgänger's hand and brought its end down on the handle of the knife. The blade was pushed down into the muscles of the shifter's heart, killing the monster.

The Winchester let go of the metal and inhaled deeply. "One less fucker people have to fear." he sighed. His eyes fell on the agent still bound to the wooden beam.

"You gonna cut me lose some time today?" Tony asked cautiously. The guy had just killed that criminal, with a one inch knife, that he impaled the guy with after pushing it into his chest with a metal pipe! Either this was a crazy good PI, or he was some psycho that got himself captured to kill the murderer. _A damn serial killer!_ Tony thought in panic as he saw who was walking towards him. It was freakin' Dean Winchester. One of the FBI's most wanted criminals.

"Don't get your panties in a twist man. We'll be out of here in no time. Just wait a sec." Dean looked around the room, searching for something that he could use to free the agent.

Tony tried to ignore the giant piece of metal the other man was advancing with. He couldn't help but flinch as he felt the cold metal graze his wrists.

"Done." Dean threw the metal to the side and watched how the federal agent stood up.

"Gosh, what the hell is this?" DiNozzo dusted off his clothes as best as he could. The dust and grime coming from the fabric made his hands feel sticky.

"I don't really wanna know. Are you okay? C'mon, let's get out of here." The Winchester walked up to the hole in the wall. The surroundings of the warehouse weren't exactly what he had pictured. But he didn't really care if the building stood in a city between skyscrapers or in a desolated place in the middle of nowhere. All of a sudden he felt a sharp sting in his back, making him cease his movements.

"Don't move. Put your hands above your head!" Tony shifted the insanely sharp piece of metal he had picked up.

"Chill. What's this about?" Dean did as the federal agent told him.

"I know who you are. You're Dean Winchester, one of the FBI's most wanted in the past until you faked your death."

"Okay, that's the truth. …. What do you plan on doing? You can't arrest me, you don't have handcuffs." Dean turned his head to look at the other man. "Why don't we just leave this place and go our separate ways?"

Tony scoffed. "Leave? So you can kill more 'monsters'? Don't think so. You're a dangerous delusional mass murderer!"

Dean dared to try his luck and fully turned around. "Seriously?" he pointed at the corpse of the shapeshifter and its skin. "You think that is delusional? You have to be shittin' me! You saw that guy change from _me_ into _you_."

"No, that must've been a trick of the light or something." Tony laughed in denial.

"_What_ light exactly? It was pitch black in here before that fugly tossed me through the wall!" Slowly the Winchester let his arms sink.

"He kidnapped us. Who knows what funky stuff he gave us?" the agent shook his head.

Dean sighed, his patience wearing thinner and thinner by the second. "Do you feel like you've been drugged?"

Tony stared at the Winchester. "No. But that doesn't matter, you're a criminal and need to be arrested!"

"Oh, for god's sake!" Dean walked over to the pile of discarded skin. He grabbed a handful and held it out in front of the agent's face. "This look like normal skin to you?"

Tony made a face as he saw the skin turn into a slimy goo and dribble down the hunter's hand. "What the hell is that?"

"Shapeshifter skin. Can we get out of here now?" Dean let the slime fall to the ground and stepped forward.

"Woah, stop! How do I know if you won't kill me?" Tony held the piece of metal tighter.

"You have to be freakin' kidding me!" the Winchester paused. "Man put down that scrap metal and let me help you, you're bleeding like a pig for slaughter."

The agent was confused by the sudden empathy of the Winchester. Now that he said it, he kinda was starting to feel cold and dizzy. He involuntarily let go of the metal as his hands started to become too weak to hold onto it. "What? No, I'm fine."

"Your arm has a freakin' deep cut in it. You're not fine. Drop the damn agent-suspect act and let me help you, damn it!" Dean kicked the piece of metal away and advanced on the agent.

Tony tried not to flinch away from the other man's hand that latched onto his shoulder. He felt himself being pulled outside. His arm pulsed with pain as the two of them stepped through the Dean shaped hole in the wall.

Said hunter stalked towards the car of the shifter. The thing had to work since that fugly had used it to transport him. He glanced inside only to see that the key lay on the drivers seat. A try to open the doors came away fruitless. Apparently the shifter possessed another key, but he didn't have time to search the monster for the tiny item.

"Stay back." he instructed and slammed his right elbow into the side window. A second hit later and the cracked glass shattered, sending splinters and shards everywhere.

"You can't just steal a car! You don't even know who it belongs to." Tony protested.

Dean reached inside the car for the key. "Car belongs to the shifter." He unlocked the vehicle and opened the door. With a few swipes of his hand he cleared away the shards from the seat. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to walk all the way back into town."

DiNozzo looked at the distant lights of the city. If he would have to walk back, who knew how long it would take him, or if he would even reach it before he bled out. "Okay, you're right." the agent looked at what the Winchester was doing. "Looking for something?"

"Yeah." Dean grumbled out. He kicked the back door shut. "What car doesn't have a first aid kit?"

"Obviously this one." Tony cradled his injured arm.

"Well, duh! Thanks for enlightening me." Dean scowled. "Get in the car. Your arm needs to be treated."

DiNozzo settled down into the passenger seat after having brushed away what little glass had landed on the fabric. "Where do you plan on going?"

The sound from the engine almost drowned out what Dean said. "I'll get my car and drive to my motel so I can patch you up."

"Wait, what?-" the agent wanted to say more, but the speed with which the Winchester tore down the dirt path took away his breath. The bumps and rocks made the entire vehicle shake. Though it seemed that the other man didn't really care.

"You wanned to say somethin'?" Dean glanced to the side.

"Just hope we'll get there in one piece. Your driving is worse than that of my boss and my colleague. And _that _should be impossible." DiNozzo flinched at a particularly large hole they drove through.

"Unless you want to bleed out I'm not slowing down." Dean left no room for arguments. He let the agent stare out the passenger window. There wasn't much they could talk about then without leaving it a ridiculously awkward moment. He could only hope that he wouldn't land himself in prison with that stunt he pulled off.

-=o0o=-


	2. Shadow in my eyes

One thing Tony had never expected was that he _understood_ a criminal. He was a federal agent for crying out loud, they weren't supposed to be able to relate to a mass murderer.

"Ah, aw ow. Ouch! Do you enjoy hurting me? Gosh!" he reached for his arm Dean was currently patching up.

The Winchester slapped DiNozzo's hand away. "If you would hold still for a minute I could've been done by now."

He put away the cotton pad and rubbing alcohol, reaching for a pair of tweezers.

Tony eyed the metal instrument suspiciously. Sure, he was grateful that Dean had taken him along. He had bothered to bring him to where he stayed and tend to the agent's wounds. To be honest Tony was a little jealous of the black beauty of a car the Winchester drove.

"What do you need the tweezers for? You're not going to poke that into my arm, are you?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Do you have a problem with pointy objects? Listen _agent_, there is stuff in that wound o' yours that needs to be removed. And don't be so whiny."

"I'm not whiny- ow, hey careful! I still need that arm!" DiNozzo clawed at the blanket of the bed Dean had literally pushed him to sit down on. Didn't want to drag his ass over to the bed if he 'blacked out'.

"Shat up man, it's done." the tweezers landed on the blanket with a faint thud. Dean reached for the rubbing alcohol, opened the bottle and washed the wound clean. He tried to ignore the hissing and wriggling agent to the best of his abilities, though it wouldn't quite work as he had hoped.

DiNozzo pressed one eye shut. Damn did the guy have to hurt him like that? "Can you bandage it now or will you keep staring at it for your own sick pleasure?"

A non amused huff left the hunters lips. "Can't 'wrap it up' yet." A small black purse emerged from the first aid kit.

"Oh, no. No, you're _not_ going to stick a needle into me!" After seeing that Dean got a needle and thread from the purse DiNozzo jumped up from the bed and started to back away. The Winchester might've helped him so far, but he wouldn't trust the guy around sharp pointy objects. He'd rather have McGee or even Ziva stitch him up.

It wasn't exactly how Dean thought a fed would react, the guy had seemed pretty normal so far. Even with his freak out about the needle he was closer to a 'normal' person than any other federal agent he had met. It just pissed him off that the guy complained way too much. Okay, Dean actually might've been a little harsh, especially while cleaning the wound. But he just wanted someone to feel a little bit of the injustice the government had caused him over the years.

"Okay, what you want. But don't think that it'll heal very nicely like that. Will definitely leave a damn nasty scar." He started to pack away the first aid kit, knowing full well that the agent would stop him.

"Wait."

"I'm listening." Dean glanced at DiNozzo, challenging him to say something.

Tony looked at the Winchester, rethinking what had happened earlier in the warehouse. "It really wasn't a trick of the light … was it?"

Dean stared into the agent's hazel eyes. "No."

A curt nod confirmed that Tony understood and accepted what Dean had told him. It wasn't an easy thing to accept, considering that his whole world had to be reshaped into the reality of what was out there. But he could manage, even _had_ to.

Reluctantly he went back to sit on the bed again, holding out his injured arm. "Just make it quick."

Dean got the sterile needle ready and started sewing the wound shut with little, well placed stitches. "Didn't mean to hurt you, ya know."

Tony grimaced at the tugging from the thread on his flesh and skin. "I suppose that you don't have anything good to say about federal agents."

"Not really."

"So, shapeshifter huh? What's so special about them?"

"They can change into anyone they want. As long as the person they impersonate is alive they receive their memories. Some of them kill for fun and some like to snack on people. Just your regular everyday monster." Dean tied a knot and cut the thread with a pocket knife.

DiNozzo frowned in disgust. "And you can kill them by stabbing their heart?"

"Only if the object is made of silver."

"Uhu." Tony watched the Winchester thoroughly wrap gauze around his wounded arm. "And you're a 'hunter'?"

"Yep."

"Anything else I need to know?"

Dean paused for a second, finishing up the bandage and putting away the first aid kit. "Basically everything you've ever heard of is real."

"Yikes." the agent winced.

"Exactly."

"But you don't expect me to believe that Bigfoot is real, do you?"

The slightest hint of hurt flashed over Dean's features, remembering Sam, the big 'Sasquatch'. "No, he's a hoax." He grabbed what little possessions he had laying around the room and packed them into his duffel bag. "C'mon I'm gonna bring you home."

Tony didn't have much of a choice but to follow the hunter seeing that the other man had already left the room. It took him a minute to get to the parking lot where Dean sat waiting in his Impala.

"This is a really nice car you got." he said after closing the passenger door.

A proud smirk curved the Winchester's lips upwards as he drove deeper into the city. "She's my baby. I've rebuilt her so many times, I could almost repair her blindfolded."

"Wish I had the time or knowledge to do that." Tony said with a mournful expression. He sighed. "I miss my Corvette … and my Mustang."

"You had a Corvette and a Mustang? Those are two really nice cars, not as nice as Baby of course. What happened to them?"

"You need to turn right at the next crossroad." DiNozzo bit his lower lip. "My Corvette got stolen. Guy who took it crashed it in a high speed chase down the highway."

Dean didn't miss the dark look on the agent's face. Yeah, he'd want to gank someone too if anyone ever damaged his beloved Impala. "And your Mustang?"

"Got blown up by an agent from another agency who didn't particularly like me. Guess I was lucky I wasn't the one driving it at the time." Tony's look got even darker.

"What an ass! Someone can't just blow up perfectly fine cars. If someone ever touched my Baby I'd-"

"Hold your horses there. Don't say anything in front of me you might regret later." Tony held up his hands in surrender at the glare he received from the Winchester. "Listen, I get that you're the good guy, fighting evil monsters that are actually real. But you've got to understand that I won't lie for someone who I've just met."

"Maybe I should've let that shifter have some fun with you first. I didn't have to save your ass back there."

"Yeah and I could call my colleagues or the FBI to tell them that Dean Winchester isn't dead." Tony said with a sarcastic undertone. "Dude, you got me out of there, you patched up my injury and you're bringing me home instead of letting me walk. Do you really think I'd call the FBI on you?"

Dean's glare only intensified.

"Really? What in the hell have those other feds done to you? Never mind. Whatever they did, I'm not like them." DiNozzo had the weird urge to prove that he was trustworthy.

"Sure." Dean's voice was laced with venom.

"Let me introduce myself again. Hello, I'm _special_ agent Anthony DiNozzo from NCIS. If there's one thing you can count on it's that I keep my promises. And if you don't trust me, well that's your problem." DiNozzo shifted and looked at the buildings passing them. "Ass."

Out of the corner of his eyes the eldest Winchester saw the sulking agent. A grown man, yet so childish. What started as a small chuckle soon turned into a full out bellowing laughter. Confused eyes stared at him. "Man you're not as bad as I thought." He shook his head.

"What?"

"It's meant as a compliment. Coming from me, that's very rare."

"Aha." What the hell was Tony supposed to say to that? "Take a left turn here." Maybe he should ignore it.

Dean did as the agent told him, following the descriptions of where they were supposed to go. "How much further?"

"Second parking lot to the right."

The Impala was carefully guided into one of the empty parking spots.

"Thanks." Tony lingered for a little while longer before he exited the vehicle.

Dean also exited, leaning on the door. "Hey, you had anything with you when that shifter napped you?"

The agent thought for a second, eyes widening as he realized what he had lost. It was going to be a pain in the ass to tell Gibbs and Vance. "My phone, badge and gun. Damn! How am I supposed to explain this all?"

"Calm down, I'll get your stuff. I need to go back anyway." The Winchester pointed a thumb in the general direction where they came from.

"Why would you go back there?" DiNozzo raised an eyebrow.

"Simple. I get our stuff and burn down the place. You don't want to explain a body that looks exactly like you when someone finds it. Trust me on that one." Dean grimaced as he remembered the shapeshifter that had impersonated him so many years ago and started the whole mess with the FBI.

Tony nodded slowly. "Okay. Just don't let anyone see you. 'Cause I won't barge you out of jail."

"Are you kidding me? In human standards I'm the master of stealth!" Dean grinned. "You should probably visit a doctor with that." he pointed at the bandaged arm.

"And what do I tell them? Listen doctor, I got kidnapped by a monster and it cut me. Oh, and I got saved by a supposedly dead monster hunter." DiNozzo crossed his arms.

"You could've slipped on the wet bathroom floor and cut yourself on the mirror that you fell into."

"And the stitches?"

"Friend of yours?"

Tony smirked, getting the hint. "Sure."

"I'll be gettin' yours and my stuff then." Dean wanted to close the car door, but the NCIS agent stopped him.

"How will you know which apartment is mine?" Tony looked at the other man a little suspicious.

"If you haven't noticed yet, it's my job to know stuff." Dean looked at the agent's hand.

DiNozzo understood where the hunter was getting at. But he wasn't about to hand out a key to a complete stranger. "Just don't break or steal anything, okay?"

Dean gave him a thumbs up, closing the door and driving back to the warehouse.

-=o0o=-

It was the next morning that Tony really realized what had happened. First he had written it off as a bad dream. But then he had discovered the painfully throbbing wound Dean had bandaged. "I should really go to a doctor."

He made his way over to the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee. Ah, coffee, that was what he needed right then.

With a freshly brewed cup of coffee in hand, Tony shuffled over to the living room and lazily flopped down into his couch. Gosh, he was lucky to have a free weekend, otherwise he would've never heard the end of it how he lost his weapon and badge.

Thinking of his badge, Tony spotted an envelope on the, for once, tidy table that hadn't been there before. Taking a sip of his coffee he walked over to the table and inspected the envelope. As he turned it around he knew that it was from Dean. 'Vey special agent DiNozzo' was written on the paper's backside.  
He put down his cup and emptied the contents of the envelope onto the surface of the table. Dean had held his word and brought back Tony's gun, badge and phone. But that wasn't all. The agent looked at the clip filled with strangely colored ammunition and the folded piece of paper. He unfolded what seemed to be a short letter.

_'Got your stuff from the warehouse. Everything still works, don't worry. I got you a clip of silver ammunition and a silver knife in case you've got a shifter or werewolf problem at your hands. I added my number to your phone contacts if you need help with my kind of job. Call if anything strange catches your eye or if you need to know something!_  
_P.S.: Go see a doctor! And nice place by the way._  
_D.W.'_

Tony had to smirk a little. "Go see a doctor." He chuckled. Yeah, he would go see a doctor, right after he got dressed and made breakfast. He had the feeling that it wasn't the last time he would cross paths with the hunter.

-=o0o=-

Traffic lights and cars flashed by, making Dean flinch every so often as he continued to speed down the highway. It wasn't weird that he turned away from the intensely glaring lights, had they always somehow bothered him when he had to drive at night. But it started to slowly drive him nuts that the lights had seemingly become brighter and that even the fainter light sources burned his retinas. It could be that his eyes had become more light sensitive during his stay in Purgatory. The possibility sounded logical since the dimension always had been sort of gray and there never had been a real light source, casting the place in eternal shadow.

However Dean was not someone to just write something like that off as simply an 'improvement' of some sorts. Things like that didn't just happen without a good reason as far as he had noticed, not in_ his_ life, not to someone with Winchester as their last name. For the moment though he couldn't really complain about it. Granted that on the long run he might probably get a headache, but it might as well be useful. He couldn't bring himself to bring his hopes up, that it would stay something simple like that.

Dean sighed, tired of his own thoughts and suspicions. He reached over to turn on the radio, not really caring what song played, as long as it kept him from thinking and worrying too much. Only half listening to the song he stared at the road. It wasn't _that_ bad, something about search and destroy and a million shattered pieces. The familiar sound of his cellphone caught his attention. "What is it Sam?" he grumbled.

_"Dean are you done with the hunt?"_ Sam's voice filtered through the speaker.

"Yeah, I told you I can handle it on my own. Why? Are you in trouble?" Concern started to twist the insides of Dean´s gut.

_"No, I`m fine. I need to tell you something."_ The younger Winchester sounded a little freaked.

"Okay." Dean looked at the blinking screen of his phone, indicating that the phone was about to turn off due to a low battery level. "But hurry the hell up before my phone dies on me. I forgot to charge it." It was a lie. He had been too busy searching for the shifter and then the fugly had napped him. Even when he and that agent where out of there he hadn't bothered to look at his phone.

_"Dean you have to believe me, I'm not lying about this."_

"Get on with it Sam!" Dean glanced at the blinking phone. It would turn off any second now.

_"Okay, listen! It_'_s weird but it_'_s the honest to god truth. It_'_s him Dean, he's back. It's-"_

Silence ringed in his ears as the phone turned off. "Fuck damn it!" Dean clenched his fist around the now useless device and threw it into the backseat. Forcing calming breaths down his lungs, he concentrated on not crashing his baby. Guess he'd have to wait for what Sam had to say when he got back. Judging by his recent inability to sleep he could be back at the cabin in more or less 20 hours.  
His return from Purgatory left him restless at nights, making him only spin and turn under the sheets of an actual bed. Had he gotten so used to the damp ground of that monster hole? Shouldn't he feel comfortable lying down in a soft bed, never mind that it was in a cheap motel? Dean chose to ignore it. He had gone without sleep longer than that after he had been dragged out of hell. Besides, he had been on the road for 15 hours strait already, only stopping to get some gas. It _was_ possible to drive the more than 2000 mile drive in a day and a half. If either, one didn't sleep, or someone else had to take the wheel while the other was resting. But Dean had to do it on his own. It wasn't the first time he drove a stretch of way like that in one go. He had gone through far worse than that.

The only thing bothering him was that he had to _wait_ to get to Sam, so his brother could tell him what sounded to have been very important. And he wouldn't dare stop to charge his cell, no. It would only slow down his arrival. Plus the younger brother had sounded troubled and Dean wasn't going to risk his Sammy getting in trouble, even though he said he was fine. Screw that. His instinct was yelling at him to hurry up, that there was something going on. So he pushed down his foot on the gas even more. He had to get to Sam, see what the hell was happening.

-=o0o=-

**_So, the second chapter of my SPN/NCIS crossover is done. I hope I didn´t leave it a jumbled mess of my imagination, though I think it turned out quite alright. Hope you enjoyed reading. I´ll try to update at least once a month (depending on my inspiration and how busy I am otherwise)._**

**_If there are any mistakes I would really appreciate if you could tell me. (the ´r´ key of my laptop isn´t really working properly, so if there´s an ´r´ missing you know why it isn´t there :P)_**


	3. Someone I used to know

The sleek black Impala cruised along the street that wound its path deeper into the forest. Glancing at the clock Dean rubbed a hand over his stinging eyes for a second. He had managed to shorten the 20 hour drive to just 17. Still it was too much time wasted in his opinion.

He spared a short glance at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Damn, he looked like shit warmed over, twice. Tired green eyes gazed back at him, the sclera completely bloodshot. His skin was paper white except for the red rimmed, shadowy eyelids that made his eyes look less tired and more creepy. Man he looked almost exactly like one of those cliché villains from bad movies, only things missing where the black leather clothes and the black hair.

But he couldn't focus on that then. A few more minutes and he would be at the cabin, finally being able to see what had his brother so agitated. He had thought about it and he couldn't help but get a really bad feeling about it. It was like he _knew_ that this situation would lead to a chain of events that he would be less than happy to deal with, if he even had a choice for that matter. Something was bound to go wrong, something always went wrong. If it wasn't the enemy that surprised them then it would most likely be a Winchester that screwed things up even more. It was what always happened. So why should it be any different?

Dean stared into the darkness ahead, seeing the path almost as clear as day. Sure, the sun had set, risen and set again. Though the darkness of the night couldn't seem to bother him that much anymore. It was something he should probably look into, maybe even tell Sam so they could keep an eye on it. But it wasn't like it was coming with bad 'side effects'. Yet. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could write it off on the extraordinarily good lamps of his beloved Impala, but he knew better than to bullshit himself. If he didn't believe it, Sam wouldn't either. He didn't have the opportunity to tell Sam anything like that anyway. The only thing he could really do was to keep it a secret until he found the right moment to share.

The cabin came up ahead, faint light streaming outside through the windows. Dean narrowed his eyes and looked past the lights as he parked the car up front. For a second he hesitated. What exactly would he tell Sam? And what details would he leave out?

He blinked once, willing the thoughts to the back of his mind. First he'd have to listen to what Sam wanted to tell him.

Dean flinched at the sudden brightness when he opened the door. "Sammy?"

"Dean!" the younger Winchester came to the front door. "So I guess your phone died then."

"Yah. What was it that you wanted to talk to me so badly?" Dean slowly put off his jacket and placed it on the table in the living room next to Sam's laptop.

"Sit down man, you look like death." Concern showed on the youngest Winchester's face.

Grumbling, Dean sat down on a chair. "What did you call me for?"

Sam looked troubled. Very slowly he sat down in the opposite chair, laying his hand flat on the tabletop. "I …" he looked down. "I had a vision."

"You're kidding right?"

"Wish I was. But, no. It was a vision."

"About what? Yellow eyes is dead and his special children lost their powers."`Dean raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"It was about a ghost hunt I found yesterday. We went to an abandoned church to deal with the spirit and …"

"Yeah?" Dean leaned forward.

"Dad came back."

The older Winchester stared as if the other was crazy. "Excuse me?" he blinked once. "Dad was the ghost?"

"No." Sam sighed. "We went there to take out the spirit. It was more malevolent than normal, so we had a little trouble uncovering the bones. Uhm … I kinda got stuck to the wall by it and for whatever reason you were MIA. And all of a sudden Dad was there and burned the whole church down."

"He burned down the church." Dean's expression was unreadable.

"Yah."

"With me possibly still in there? How do you even know it was really him?"

"I just knew, you know. I could … feel that it was him."

Dean hummed a semi reply. "So, where's that haunted church supposed to be?"

"You wanna check it out?" Sam's eyes glowed with hope and uncertainty. "Why?"

Dean grabbed a pen from the table and toyed with it. "Don't you wanna see if it's really a vision? Could as well've been a bad dream."

"But I'm sure-"

"You havin' a headache?" Dean flicked the pen into the air and caught it.

Sam looked somewhat puzzled. "Don't have a headache."

"Throbbing?" the pen was pointed at Sam's nose.

"No."

"Last I checked you at _least_ got one hell of a headache when you had a vision." Dean tossed the pen into the air again.

"And your point is?" Sam caught the pen and put it away. It was annoying him.

Dean frowned. "I say we handle that ghost, see if anything special happens. _If _ someone with Dad's face just so happens to be there … well, we'll see about that when we're there. 'Course we need to see if he isn't an imposter. Can't have a shifter or demon walking among us, can we?"

It was Sam's turn to frown. He didn't want a demon traveling with them. It reminded him too much of Ruby. And Crowley. Damn, the smug son of a bitch had tricked them way too often. He didn't need to voice his answer, his brother already knew it and he knew he felt the same way.

"So." Dean stood from his chair and stretched. "When we gonna leave?"

"You just came from who knows where you've been. Don't you want some sleep?"

"Dude, Washington isn't _that_ far away. It's not _not_ possible to drive in one go. B'sides, I don't feel like sleeping."

"You drove from Washington D.C. to Whitefish in one go? Are you crazy? How are you not tired?" Sam stood with his arms spread. What the fuck was his brother thinking?

"I simply don't think I'll be able to fall asleep. Didn't sleep in Purgatory either." It was the truth. Dean wasn't tired, anymore. When he had been driving and the first sunlight had hit his face he had felt like passing out. But stubborn as he was he just kept on driving. As soon as the sun had set, he felt normal again, even slightly energized. Maybe it should worry him. But at the moment they had more important stuff to deal with. "And I'm not crazy."

"Sure, driving a more than 2000 mile distance without a break isn't completely nuts." Sam rolled his eyes. "As for the ghost hunt, I'll tell you everything in the morning, when you've slept. You look like a zombie, man."

"You gonna play mother hen again? I told you I'm not tired." Dean crossed his arms.

"We're not leaving unless you've had some rest."

"Okay, man. Don't be so bitchy."

-=o0o=-

Sam had already packed everything they needed for the hunt. There was a weird feeling creeping into his gut every time he thought about the things he saw in his vision. He had seen more than he had told Dean, but he was afraid of how his older brother would react.

Sunlight tickled his skin as he passed the window. A slight glance at the clock told him that it was almost noon. Dean had always loved to sleep into the day, but never _that_ long. Considering that his brother looked like death last night it wasn't all too weird though. But eventually they had to leave, so he went over to Dean's bed and pulled away the blankets.

The only reaction he got was a sleepy groan. Normally Dean would've been wide awake, bitching at Sam for interrupting his sleep. "Dean, wake up. We need to leave." Still he didn't get a reaction. "Dean the Impala has been stolen!"

"What?" Dean shot up in his bed. "I'm gonna kill the son of a bitch!"

"Nice to see you're finally back among the living." Sam said sarcastically.

"Baby's okay?"

"Yes." Dean had such a childlike expression on his face that Sam almost cringed.

The oldest Winchester fell back on his mattress, one hand covering his face. "Never do that to me again."

"What, you didn't think it was funny?" Sam smirked.

"No!" Dean growled and sent his bother a glare.

"Get dressed. We have to leave for the hunt. I'll fill you in on everything when we've hit the road."

-=o0o=-

"So, what you're telling me is that this ghost makes everyone who drives on the street next to the church have an accident?"

"For the hundredth time, Dean, yes. That's why I called you. Normally the street's pretty busy, but there are a few things being changed, so not many people actually get to use the road now. But in a few days it will be open to not only the locals anymore. Thousands of people will use it daily." Sam's voice shook. Only thinking about the many deaths made him sick.

"How'd this guy die? That church is several meters away from the street. If he died in the church, how can he target people on the street?" Dean pulled at the steering wheel, following the flow of the road.

"He died on the street."

"Then how … oh."

"Yeah." Nausea wormed its way into Sam's gut.

"Got squished like a grape. What did he get caught between?"

"Well, he crossed the street and got hit by two trucks. Some … pieces must've landed on the church."

"Like a sticky confetti, yum." Dean glanced to the side for a second. "What happened to the parts of his body that were found?"

"Got burned."

"Wouldn't have thought otherwise."

"That wasn't everything though. Guy had a brother who committed suicide in the church two months after the accident. No one ever found the body though."

"Okay, we don't only have bloody confetti leftovers to look for, we also have to search for a possibly already disintegrated body. Just great."

"We've had worse cases Dean." Sam said.

"I know." Dean grumbled a little. The rest of the ride remained silent.

The Impala came to a halt right in front of the abandoned church. The last rays of sunlight hit the vehicle as both Winchesters exited. "Thanks to you it's getting dark again." Sam hoisted a duffle over his shoulder.

"Hey, I love my sleep. And we've always hunted at night anyway. Don't want anyone to see us." Dean put a knife into his belt.

"You're just looking for an excuse that doesn't make you look like a sleep junky." Sam teased.

"Yeah, no. I've been in Purgatory for a year. Cut me some slack." Dean stared up at the building in front of them. "That is one big ass church for a small place like this."

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"C'mon let's fry the SOB extra crispy."

They both stepped into the old building. Cool wind blew through the little cracks in the aged walls.

"You didn't happen to see _where_ the body was, did you?" the older brother asked as he tried to evade spiderwebs.

"We're not even sure if it was a vision at all. Besides, I didn't see where the body was anyway." Sam stepped over a dead rat. "I'll search the Atrium and you'll take the Nave."

"What?"

Dean didn't need to turn around, Sam knew that he was confused. "I take the front and you take the back."

"Why didn't you say that?" Dean glanced over his shoulder.

"I did. Forget it. Just do your job."

"Aye aye captain." The older Winchester smirked when he heard Sam sigh. He stood in the Narthex, dozens of long pews separated the Nave from the side aisles. The church had looked huge on the outside, but from inside it looked even more impressive with the high ceiling. However age had left its mark on the old building.

A portion from the roof and pieces of the connecting wall were missing. White moonlight streamed into the hall freely. A huge mirror at the end of the room reflected little of the light as it sat beneath a roof of its own.

Dean walked into the Nave. The huge ceiling made him feel small. If that thing collapsed they'd end up like the guy who got squished between two trucks. And they'd probably never be found, like the victim's brother.

He walked up to the mirror. Since when did churches have mirrors like that? Something about it was creeping him out. The edges were darkened, as if someone had held a flame against it. Looking around the Winchester couldn't find any trace of a fire. A baptismal font stood centered in front of the glass. Strange enough it was still filled to the brim. The liquid was clear, devoid from any trace of dust, grime or anything else that indicated that it wasn't refilled or cleaned in years. It should have evaporated, but there it sat in its granite container, mocking the elder Winchester to try and find an answer.

A sound to his side had him whirling around and pointing his gun at the source in less than a second.

The rat looked at him surprised and scurried away into the shadows.

"Damn rats." Dean grumbled. He took a step back and bumped into the font that held the holy water.

The object cracked and tilted slightly, its slender underside making it more instable.

Dean watched as it settled again and let out a sigh.

With a loud crash the granite fell to the floor. Sharp pieces of stone scattered on the floor. The holy water splashed onto the floor and formed a huge puddle.

"Damn it!" Dean looked at the now wetted rims of his pants. His soaked shoes made sloshing noises when he moved around. He turned in a half circle, wanting to leave, but a faint flash of light in the mirror made him turn back again.

Suspicion etched itself into the Winchester's features. There was nothing there, still he walked up to the glass and stood in front of it. It was still the same mirror, still had the same surface. The thing that changed was what it showed. Dean's eyes narrowed. The moonlight caught in his eyes and reflected off of his irises, making them flash white.

"What the fuck?" Dean leaned forward even more. He took a close look at his irises. Little, almost unnoticeable streaks of reflective white silver were hidden amongst the mossy green.

"No." It came out as a husky breath. Dean couldn't say anything else, he was speechless. On the inside he was freaking out and he had a good reason to. Not only had he discovered that he could see better in the dark with every passing day, now his eyes reflected light at a certain angle and his normally green eyes started to sport rays of silvery white.

A pained shout from Sam echoed through the church. Dean looked at his reflection one more time before he ran to where the noise came from.

Sam struggled for breath. The ghost had pinned him to the wall and was choking him. He tried to reach for his sawed off shotgun, but every time he came close to even bushing it with his fingers the ghost would punch him in the stomach. "Dean!" he managed to choke out. His vision was starting to get blurry.

As if on cue Dean entered the Atrium. His gaze fell on the ghost and his lips formed a snarl. He raised his gun to shoot the specter.

With a flicker it was gone, reappearing next to Dean and slapping the gun and the hunter into different directions. The second Dean hit the floor the ghost was back with Sam and wrapping its thin fingers around the younger one's throat.

A throaty groan erupted from Dean's mouth. Why the hell was this spirit so damn strong? The year in Purgatory had sharpened his skills in hunting. But the things he had to kill then had been solid, nothing like a ghost. His surroundings came in and out of focus. He probably had a concussion. "S'my!" Dean crawled over to where his shotgun lay near a heap of rubble.

Sam heard Dean call him, but there wasn't anything he could do. He struggled for breath. They should've investigated more. Maybe they should've just burned down the whole damn church like in his 'vision'. Suddenly the barrel of a sawed off was next to his face and blew the ghost away with a round of rocksalt. A strong arm kept him from keeling over. The lack of oxygen had turned his legs into jello, at least that's what it felt like. "Dean."

"Sammy, it's okay. I'm here, I'm here. I'm gonna get you back, okay? Just help me a little." Dean draped one of Sam's arms over his shoulder. The world was still unfocused and it slowly started to turn, but he couldn't worry about that then. He needed to get Sam out of there.

The cool night air burned his lungs. He forced one step after another, but he could feel his knees buckling under the pressing weigh of his own and Sam's body.

"Dean. Have t' burn the remains." Sam rasped out.

The elder sibling's foot caught on a stone and they both went tumbling down. If it weren't for the sudden presence of another pair of arms that steadied them they both would've faceplanted into the dirt. "It's okay. I got you boys." a gruff voice said.

Sam and Dean turned to look at the man who had prevented their fall. "Dad?" both asked.

Suddenly Dean tackled the John look alike to the ground and had a silver knife to his throat in a second. "What are you?" he growled out, eyes forming small slits and lips twitching. "Christo!"

Sam watched closely as Dean pinned the older man to the ground. "He isn't a demon." So it actually _was_ a vision what he had.

"I see that." Dean sliced the silver knife along the man's forearm. No steam rose from the wound. He slowly rose back to his feet, staring at John. It really was him. A small part of him recoiled at the realization. It was the part that could see in the dark and was developing reflective silver eyes.

Sam cautiously stepped forward and helped John stand up.

"Tha-" John blinked.

Sam emptied the contents of his flask into John's face.

"You said he wasn't a demon." Dean looked between his brother and father.

"I know. I wanted to make sure." Sam put away the flask.

"Glad to see you're still as cautious as ever." John smiled. He stepped forward, hugging both Sam and Dean. "Let's go roast that Ghost, shall we."

Sam and Dean stood there for a while longer, sharing a bewildered look behind their father's back before they followed after him.

-=o0o=-

**_And another chapter is done. I had a little trouble writing it, since I didn't know how the boys would react to see their father again after so long. Please don't hate on me for bringing John back, he has a lot of influence on where my story will be headed. And yes, Tony will be back in the future, don't worry. The rest of NCIS will come later as well._**

**_A big welcome to all my new followers, you're free to share your opinion on my story as long as it isn't insulting. Until next time._**


	4. White Knuckles

Currently Sam was sitting on his bed. The dimmed light from his laptop screen burned his tired eyes. Once in a while he would glance over his screen to look at their resurrected father who lay fast asleep on the couch. It was his turn to play guard. He watched his brother sleep on the camping bed next to his. It had taken the older sibling several hours to fall asleep. Dean wasn't the only one who knew the tells when the other was faking. When the first rays of light started to peek over the horizon, Dean's breathing had finally evened to a slow regular rhythm.

Sam blinked and rubbed his stinging eyes. The ride back to the cabin had been tiresome. Dean had insisted that John should sit in the passenger seat while Sam sat in the back, keeping an eye on him just in case. He hadn't complained, he had known what Dean had hinted at without actually even doing it. They all knew that the man with their father's face really _was_ John. But the suspicion and mistrust had still lingered in the air like smoke that slowly choked them. Both Sam and Dean had offered beer and various other things to their father, always spiked with holy water or blessed. The understanding and knowing, but so very well hidden hurt smile that crossed the older man's face every time he took the offers made Sam's heart clench in so long forgotten pain, sympathy even. He and Bobby had done the same when Dean had been raised from hell. The memory of his brother being ripped to shreds by Lillith's hellhounds flashed before his eyes, waking painful emotions that he thought he had managed to live with.

To that very day Sam still tried to convince himself that Dean was okay. Because he had been raised from hell, he was no longer being tortured and it had been years ago. But he knew better than to bullshit himself. He still saw his brother's face distort in pain when he had yet another nightmare of the pit. One might imagine that it would go away. Yet it was a trauma that no one could ever dare to fathom. Dean's soul had been shredded in so many unimaginable way that it just wasn't possible to recover from it. Sam had been locked in with Lucifer and Michael, though thanks to Castiel he had no memory of the time. Dean however still fought with what he remembered. Of course they didn't talk about it. The nightmares weren't that violent anymore, or at least the older sibling's reaction to them weren't. Sam however noticed when his brother woke in the middle of the night, muscles stiff and shaking from the adrenaline rush and his clothes soaked in sweat. They had somehow ended up entwined in an endless game of denial and ignorance. Dean pretended he didn't know that Sam knew and Sam pretended he didn't see.

Just then a thought occurred to Sam. They were so tied up in Dean's return that they had both forgotten about all the rest. He still needed to inform his brother that Kevin was safe. A short glance at the clock told him that it was almost 8 am. John had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the lumpy old pillow, so it wouldn't be weird when Sam woke him.

The youngest Winchester placed the laptop on the bed and strode over to the couch. "Dad, wake up."

The old man grumbled. "What time is it?" he yawned. "Feels like I could sleep for two days straight." The tattered blanked shifted as the old hunter slowly sat up, groaning when he popped his back.

"Almost 8 am." He had to bite back his other comment. Telling John that 'Yes, being resurrected makes you very tired indeed' probably wasn't a good thing to mention.

John stretched. "So, are you going to fill me in on how long I was gone. You two look so much …"

"Older?" Sam tried to fill in the words John was searching for.

"No." the eldest Winchester shook his head. "You two look so much more mature. You've grown into strong men who can fend for themselves." He sighed. "What did I miss."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Basically everything."

"Like what?"

Sam thought for a second. What should he tell him exactly? At least not the parts where he and Dean died. Maybe it was best to throw the 'hungry dog' a bone he could chew on and a task to think about it. "The Apocalypse for starters."

"The Apocalypse?" John looked somewhat unbelieving. "Then pray tell me. Where is all the chaos, the destruction, not to mention all the demons and Lucifer?"

"Dean and I stopped it." Sam said with a defiant tone.

"Uhu. Talking about your brother. Hasn't he slept long enough? The sun's already up."

"I'll wake him while you get breakfast." The younger brother shoved some cash into his father's hand and pushed him to the door. Sam wanted to save Dean a few more seconds of sleep. He found that his older brother deserved it, seeing that he didn't get the chance in a whole year.

John stood at the door, empty hand held up.

"What?" Sam thought he knew where this was going.

"Keys." John simply said.

"No, the Impala is Dean's." Sam shook his head in protest.

"Then how am I supposed to get breakfast?"

Sam didn't like the commanding way the eldest Winchester was starting to display again. Wherever he had been hadn't changed him that much, if at all. "Walk, like we always do. Saves us some gas and it's healthy."

The challenging stare he got from his father would've made him cringe in his younger years, but he didn't have a reason for that anymore. He stood his ground and waited until the old hunter had vanished through the door. He looked at the watch one more time, it would take John about at least an hour to get back.

Half an hour later Sam was showered and dressed. The internet was less than helpful providing any information he _actually wanted_. With a frustrated sigh he slammed the top of his laptop shut. His back cracked when he leaned back in his chair. He let his head roll to the side, eyes scanning the still sleeping form of his brother. "Really Dean?"

Sam noted that his brother lay in exactly the same position like when he fell asleep. "Dean." He was just about to reach out and shake his brother's shoulder when Dean shot up from the bed. One hand painfully clenched around the younger brother's throat while the other held the point of a hunting knife over his heart. "Dean." Sam managed to choke out. The look in his older brother's eyes scared him, it was more than the usual dark glare, he almost looked like a wild animal. The tip of the knife dug into his chest.

"Snap out of it Dean!" Sam pulled at his brother's arm, but he wouldn't budge even a little bit. "Dean."

Dean was caught in a haze of confusion and pain. Something made his insides feel like they were on fire and the total blackness before his eyes was unsettling. He knew that his eyes were open, still he couldn't see a damn thing. Somewhere in the far back of his mind he could hear Sam call for him. The way his baby brother's voice sounded made his alarm bells ring like there was no tomorrow. Sam never sounded like that, never so broken and small and pleading and on the brink of … giving up.

The tiniest little thing clicked together in his mind and suddenly he was aware of everything around him again. He felt that he wasn't sleeping, his body was tense and his hands clenched around something. His vision returned and with a horribly clear realization he saw that he had a white knuckled grip on his brother's throat.

Dean let go, hands flying away like he had been shocked by pure electricity. He pushed his frame away from his hurt brother until his back hit the wall. "Sam?"

Sam felt the hand around his windpipe vanish. His body sagged back against his bed as he gulped the much needed air down his throat and into his lungs. It wouldn't have taken much more and he'd ended up unconscious on the floor. He was surprised that his windpipe wasn't crushed. Dean had used so much force in his grip that it hurt to only think about it.

His eyes drifted over to the cowering form that was pressed up against the wall. Where was Dean? And just like that he saw that it was _Dean_ who cowered against the wall, cowering away from him with huge shoked eyes. "What the hell?" Sam rasped out.

Dean frantically shook his head, eyes never leaving the red handprint on his baby bother's neck. "I don't know."

It sounded so pathetic, so small and insecure that Sam wanted to cry. His big brother wasn't supposed to sound like that. "What happened?"

Dean inhaled a few times before he spoke. His heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. "I don't know." He licked his lips and swallowed. "I … my body was on autopilot."

Sam stared at his brother. "What?" His mind was racing, searching for an answer. "Wait. What if …"

The older brother held his breath. He hurt Sam, or rather his body did and he had no idea how something like that could happen.

"Purgatory!" Sam breathed the word like it was the answer to all their problems. The Winchester ignored the puzzled look from his sibling and stood up. He paced around the small living room as best as he could. "Think about it Dean. You've been to Purgatory, you've hunted nonstop for a whole year. Your mind practically has 'fight' burned into it."

"Then why didn't I attack you the time before that?"

"I don't know. It sounded like a plausible explanation." Maybe it was because Dean had had a nightmare again. Sam however didn't mention it. He didn't want to push his brother further into a corner.

Silence rang in their ears. "I'm gonna get a shower." Dean said stiffly and left the room with a new pair of clothes.

The hot water ran down his aching muscles, almost burning him. Dean ran a hand down his face. His mind still felt a little fuzzy and somewhere in a deeply hidden pit in his soul he had felt a rage build inside him when he couldn't see a thing. He wanted to hide it, or to simply push it down. But he knew that it wouldn't have any use, so he let the boiling anger slowly come to the surface, leaving the water to wash away the unwanted feeling.

He closed his eyes, exhaling a hissing breath through his clenched teeth. What the hell was going on? It definitely wasn't something normal. Someone didn't suddenly start to exhibit extraordinarily good nightvision. And what about his eyes? And that anger, did it belong to those changes or was that something else entirely?

He stepped out of the shower after having washed his hair. A big white towel was tightly wrapped around his waist. He blinked at the glaring light from the lamp above the mirror, its light stinging his eyes in a painful manner.

"Damn light." He grumbled and looked into the glass surface of the mirror. With one finger he pulled back an eyelid and glanced at the revealed iris. Mossy green greeted him, no silvery white streaks anywhere. Though he was a hundred percent sure about what he had seen in that church. What had caused his eyes to react like they did? He twisted his head to the side, his irises faintly glinting in the light. So that hadn't vanished either.

There was still the possibility of a curse, although he didn't know _who_ could've cursed him, or when it was supposed to have happen. It was something to worry about. But he shouldn't let his mind be consumed with the idea that he was somehow changing. He would keep an eye on it. Maybe research some stuff on his own laptop. They had to focus on John's return.

Dean got dressed and exited the bathroom, noting the lack of any kind of conversation. A knot formed in his gut. Where was John? He should've heard what was going on earlier.

The elder sibling entered the living room again. Guilt crossed his features as he looked at his brother. "Hey, where's dad?"

Sam paused his search for a new hunt, looking at the other man. "I sent him out to get some breakfast."

Dean looked out the window, seeing that his baby still stood where he last parked it.

"I didn't let him take the Impala." Sam said.

"I can see that. Why?"

"Didn't want you bitching about dad taking your car." Something unidentifiable crossed the younger man's face. "I can't help but not completely trust him. I have this weird feeling that something's going to happen."

Dean sat in the chair opposite of Sam. "Thought I was the only one."

"You're not going to lecture me about how dad was a good father and all that stuff?" Sam looked a little shocked.

"Man, he's been dead for years. I missed him, sure. But we learned to live without him. He screwed up a lot of things in the past. I see that now." Dean looked away before his gaze wandered back to his brother. "So. Bad feelings huh?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"I don't trust him either. There's just something that makes me feel like I have to be very careful about what I say and do when he's around."

Sam nodded again. "Yeah, I hear ya."

"I don't like this." Dean's eyebrows knitted together. He had adored their father when he was younger, obeyed his orders and never questioned. Looking back at the past he could see all the mistakes they had made. And blindly listening to John hadn't been a good idea in most situations. A small part of him wanted to push the man away. The man who had told him to save his brother and when impossible, to kill him, to end the life of the one person who understood him better than he himself. The man who had robbed them of their childhood, raised them as nothing less than killers only to abandon them again. The man who didn't come when Sam told him that Dean was dying. He could've lived with all the crap John loaded on his shoulders, but asking him to _kill_ his baby brother just gnawed at the faith he once held for him. It was an order that crossed the line and screamed a big fat 'No'.

The years had changed them, both Winchester brothers. One of those things was that they wouldn't let themselves be pushed around by anyone.

"I don't like it either." Sam startled the older brother out of his thoughts. "Ehm." He tapped his fingers on the table. "You haven't asked about Kevin. He's fine by the way. Managed to escape and I helped him get a safe cover."

Dean's eyes widened. How could he have forgotten about the young prophet? "Where is he?"

"North Dakota. In a big city. I got him an apartment and warded it against everything I could think of."

The older brother tilted his head to the side a little. "He studying again?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Boy shouldn't waste his life chasing after monsters." Dean leaned back in his chair, staring at the bruise starting to form on Sam's neck.

Dean's sudden paleness made Sam follow his brother's gaze. He swallowed, remembering how the other man's fingers curled around his windpipe and cut off his air supply. A phantom pain from the knife that had been held against his chest flashed through his body.

"I'm sorry Sam." Dean turned away.

"It's not your fault. You know that."

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. "Can … can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah. What is it?"

"Can you not tell dad?"

Sam looked into Dean's eyes, really looked. He could see the insecurity and the fear. Just how he felt his whole life. "Sure." He pointed at his laptop. "Wanna help me look for a hunt?"

"Yeah." Dean got up and grabbed his own computer, thankful for the subject change. Sam would want to talk about it later, he knew his brother way too well to have any doubt for that matter.

-=o0o=-

**Chapter 4 is here! I typed this one out pretty quickly. My mind was in a real hurry to get this out, so there might be a little more mistakes in it. If you see any errors please tell me. Enjoy!**


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